


Emerald Eyes and Lost Memories

by Me_Ka



Category: Anastasia (1997), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anastasia AU, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Dick is a pretty Disney princess and Jason is a mess, Eventual Smut, Evil Slade Wilson, Fluff, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Original Character(s), a lil bit, obviously, the Not-Actually-Disney One, they're not really important honestly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:20:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23434567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Me_Ka/pseuds/Me_Ka
Summary: Suddenly, the scene changes and the blue-eyed man is stumbling through thick crowds, trying desperately to catch the hand of an elderly man. He can feel the tears, the panic in his gut. He hears the screams but can’t register the words. The holler of a train, the panicked screech of a name that does not belong to him, but he can recall from somewhere buried in his memory.He can feel his fingers brush against warm skin, frantic to secure a hold.Another scream and everything turns black.Or the Anastasia AU that not a single person asked for.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
Comments: 2
Kudos: 70





	1. Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Flulamela](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flulamela/gifts).



> So, me and my girl Flulamela, are stuck in a pandemic and quarantined so we've decided to give each other challenges every week, and because I'm a piece of shit it took my longer than expected to complete (who am I kidding this shit is not done but meh)
> 
> BUT
> 
> we decided to take our fave OTP at the moment and our fave disney movie and mash that shit up so here we are.

**_ Russia, 1918 _ **

The ballroom was alight with music and twinkling chandeliers, men dressed in their finest of attire and women shining with expensive diamonds and gowns. Laughter echoed as liquor was poured, children weaving between their parents’ legs while they chased each other about. 

Richard’s chest was alive with laughter as he came to a stop in front of his Grandpapa sitting in one of the beautiful thrones laid out for the royal family. The old man smiles at the young boy, eyes crinkling at the corners. Big blue eyes, the color of winter rain, sparkle up at the elderly man, a true sign of the boy's royal lineage of the Grayson family. 

The Grayson family had been the  Tzars for over three centuries, ruling and caring for their land and people. Though throughout the recent years, an undercurrent of resentfulness and anger was running through the people of Russia, ready to churn and pull the entire empire down into the depths at the slightest change of wind. 

Alfred Grayson should have known with the force of winds on this day, that something was stirring. Though, with his weariness he continued with the night, smiling down at his beloved grandson. He reached  into the pocket of his suit and produced a small ornamental box and held it out to the young boy. 

The raven-haired boy ginned as he took the circular box from his Grandpapa, “It is stunning, Grandpapa!” 

The older man chuckled at the boy, “Yes, it is, indeed. An old friend gifted it to me while I was visiting in Paris,” He explained as he brought a thing gold chain around his grandson’s neck. Attached to the chain was the key for the box. Richard gasped as he brought the key closer for inspection. 

“Together in Paris,” He read quietly. He held the box up and placed the key in the proper slot, twisting it slightly to the right. The box opened to a gentle tune, as a figurine of a dancing couple appeared, their slow circling movement following the tune of the song.

Blue eyes starred in wonder, “It is our song, Granpapa.” 

Alfred smiled warmly at the boy, gently brushing his fingers against the boy's cheek, “It is,  _ mon amour _ . Now you will always have a piece of me while I am away.”

The young Duke giggled and threw his arms around the old man, raining thanks. 

Suddenly, the light energy around the room shattered alongside the glass of chandeliers. Shocked gasps and worried murmurs replaced the cheerful chatter as a cloaked figure limped into the court. 

Alfred quickly moved the young boy behind his own body, rising as he watched his son advance towards the intruder. He heard his son arguing with the man and as soon as the hood was removed, a shocked gasp fell from his lips. 

Slade, the sorcerer. 

The sorcerer’s cold eyes scanned the room and with a grand gesture of his arms, he called out to the room, “I banish you all and call forth a curse! Mark my words, you and your entire family will die within a fortnight! I will not rest until I have seen the end of the Grayson dynasty forever!” 

Alfred Grayson knew in that moment that the winds had brought an unstoppable force to them. 

* * *

**_ Russia, 1928 _ **

_ A tinkling of piano starts, followed by a soft chorus of violin, meeting to create a beautiful melody. The sound wraps around Dick as he follows the lead of a tall woman dressed in a golden gown, a diamond crown atop her head. The pair sways to the music, slowly, and Dick worries if he’s hurting her feet the way he’s got his toes perched on hers. Though she says nothing.  _

_ Blue eyes see  _ _ blurs _ _ of gold and blue as more bodies move around them, laughter and good chatter mixing with the instruments.  _

_ Suddenly, the scene changes and the blue-eyed man is stumbling through thick crowds, trying desperately to catch the hand of an elderly man. He can feel the tears, the panic in his gut. He hears the screams but can’t register the words. The holler of a train, the panicked screech of a name that does not belong to him, but he can recall from somewhere buried in his memory.  _

_ He can feel his fingers brush against warm skin, frantic to secure a hold.  _

Why, why, why?

_ Another scream and everything  _ _ turns _ _ black. _

Dick wakes with a strangled gasp, bedspread caught messily between his legs from his thrashing. His forehead and shoulders are damp with sweat, and he’s not too sure his heart won’t beat straight from his chest. The young man unconsciously clasps at the necklace around his neck – a thin gold chain with a sort of key ornament adorned with emeralds – and ran his fingertips over the engraved lettering on the back of the pendant. 

_ Together in Paris _

Dick does not know how or when he had obtained the necklace, a piece of jewelry that was far beyond anything he could afford to buy, but his hostess mother told him that he had it clutched between his small hands when Dick was brought to her after he had been found wandering around aimlessly in the forests of Siberia. 

He had no memory of who he was, how he came to be in the forest, it was as if his entire slate had been cleaned of any mementos. The necklace around his neck the only thing belonging to his past life. 

Dick did not start having dreams until his fourth winter at the shared home. He remembers how he woke screaming and sobbing, the lingering stare of those cold, dark eyes etched into his thoughts. After a while, he began to journal the dreams, as sparse of information that they are, Dick hopes that someday, the small fragments of his memory will be puzzled back into place. 

One day, he would find where he belonged. 

Taking a heaving breath, the raven-haired man eases himself from his futon, shifting into a knitted sweater – an old, ratty thing that was given to him as a gift from one of the other boys in the house – and a pair of trousers. He pushes his hair from his eyes, stepping into the shared common space of the home. 

Five other boys and six young women sit gathered, munching on bread and porridge, speaking without a care – as children should. 

Dick greets each of them, stealing a slice of bread from the eldest boy, ruffling the  boy's hair as the younger of the two grumps and tries to swat Dick’s hands away. 

He would miss them dearly. 

Dick walks to the kitchen, greeting his house mother getting a small grunt in response and a reprimanding “ _You are expected at the_ _Bravikov’s_ _. Do not be late_.” in turn. Dick knows what is expected of him now that he is of age; secure a paying employment, find a wife, have a family. Follow the order that society expects from him. 

Dick has never been the type to appease other’s wants, a stubborn mule most would call him. 

Better a stubborn mule than a mindless sheep.

Dick mutters his acknowledgment to the elderly woman and takes his leave back to his shared room. He drapes a heavy coat over his shoulders, filling the inner pockets with saved allowance. He wraps a scarf around his neck, and makes his way out of the house, making sure to hug each child along the way. 

A cold breeze hits his face as he opens the front door, a layer of fresh snow carpeted out before him. He walks from the entrance way, past the large gates, and down into the woods. 

A low thrumming of adrenaline tickles his veins, making his fingers twitch in anticipation, and when he comes to the crossroads between a mundane life and a great adventure, he makes his choice. 

The blue-eyed man takes a tentative step, relishes the crunching of snow beneath his shoe. A laugh bubbles from his chest and he takes off towards the city. 

Towards his future. 


	2. Travel Papers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first, thanks yall for the kudos!  
> It's nice to finally have some inspo and motivation to write again lololol  
> here's the second chapter, hope yall enjoy :)

**_ St. Petersburg, 1928 _ **

Jason Todd is sick of Russia. He’s sick of the people and the way the gossip around without any qualms; sick of the cold, the never-ending winters. He struggles from project to project in hopes of producing enough money to buy the first train ticket to get him as far away from this place as possible. 

Unfortunately , life is never that kind to Jason. 

Growing up without parents or any other kin, he was raised in the palace as a servant, under the watchful eye of the head butler,  Aleksy , until the fateful night that would see an entire family massacred – an entire dynasty destroyed. 

Jason remembers the night well, the screams haunting his dreams until this very day. He remembers the rush of citizens, a raging horde as they trampled into the palace, pillaging and burning anything and everything, they could find. The stench of smoke he can still smell on occasion, but what he remembers most is a pair of terrified eyes, so blue Jason was sure that they took the color from the very sea at their borders. 

He recalls how he scrambled to hide the boy, no older than his young age of ten, along with the late  Tsar , before he was brutally beaten and left for dead.

Jason sighs and exhales the  tobacco smoke from his lungs. 

That had been over a decade ago, and no one has since seen the young Duke. 

Some believe he is dead, another death caused by the revolution; others thought him safe and well somewhere where the Soviet Union – the new appointed name of their country – could not find him. Some even believe that he still resides in Russia, a few peasants even coming forth to claim they’ve seen the boy in the forests of Siberia. 

Jason thinks that the boy is long gone and buried alongside his family, never the optimist. 

The brunet takes another long drag from his rolled cigarette, holding it in and letting the feeling take over his stressed brain. 

His partner Roy Harper – a friend he met after the fall of the palace – has secured another job for the pair of them, one that if executed properly could give them enough of a reward to assure a paid passage to any country they desired, and still have enough left over to live a plush life. 

The only problem is the main component of their scam has been missing for over a decade, presumed dead. 

Jason sighs heavily and pinches his nose as he tries to sort how the two of them, no matter their skills at conning and deceiving are, could possible convince the Grand Duke of Russia, Alfred Grayson, that the man they’ve chosen is his grandson, Richard Grayson. 

There was no goddamn way they could do it. 

“Jaybird! Have you decided which one we are going to use?” 

Jason turns to see Roy leaning against the window frame where Jason is perched. The green-eyed man huffs, flicking the butt of his cigarette into the streets below. He reaches into his coat and produces another cigarette and a match, lighting the stick and taking a deep inhale of smoke. 

He blows the smoke in the direction opposite of Roy’s face, though the wind swirls it back and the red head coughs animatedly, waving his hands dramatically at the thin cloud. 

“None of them,” Jason states, “There isn’t  one that could convince that old man.” 

Roy shrugs his shoulders, “It’s been years, and the man, as you said, is older than the bread Yanik sells,” 

Jason snorts as Roy  continues , “There’s a possibility he could not even recognize him, even if it  _ was _ , in fact, the young Duke.” 

“That old man could probably detail every inch of  the Old Palace,” Jason starts, rolling his eyes at his friend, “There is no possible way that he won’t remember what his favorite grandson looks like.” 

Roy nods in agreement, brow furrowing as he tries to think of another plan. 

As much as it pained Roy to admit, Jason has always been the more intellectual out of the pair, always thinking one step ahead – of every single possible outcome, good or bad. Not to say that Roy himself was not an incredible well-read man, though his intellect favored to the ways of the streets of Russia. Jason was unfortunate – or fortunate, depending on how one would look at it – enough to have a great deal of experience in both aspects, a young life of trauma and the need to survive to thank. 

A loud crash echoes around them and both men turn their heads sharply towards the sound. It had come from the floor below, no doubt. Jason swings his legs over the window ledge, stepping down onto the solid floor beneath him. Without looking at Roy, he heads to investigate the noise, his steps sure but quiet, careful not to scare off the  trespasser . 

“Hello?” Jason hears being called; the voice belongs to a man – he sounds calm, not at all how a potential criminal would sound. Jason would know. Though, the green-eyed man doesn’t respond, just continues down the steps at a leisurely pace. 

“Hello, is there anybody here?” The voice continues, “I’m looking for a Mr. Todd?” 

Jason’s brow furrows. Those who would seek him out usually were not this bold, preferring to leave a written letter shoved under the door and proceed to wait for contact. Jason has never had a customer barge into his – alright, he and Roy may have been the first to trespass through the gates of the Old Palace and create their home, but every peasant in the city knew to not cross Jason Todd, and that included breaking into his home. 

Either this man had balls the size of the Siberian desert, Jason thought comically, or he was simply plain idiotic. 

The voice echoes again as Jason takes the final step down into the grand ballroom, “Hello!” and then, more quietly, “Well, I guess this is a bust,” 

Jason clicks his tongue and calls out to the man from across the room, “Who’s asking for Todd?” 

The man twirls around, surprise and a hint of fear painting his features, though it’s quickly replaced with a wide grin of white teeth. 

“My name’s Dick! I was told I could find Jason Todd here,” He informs, then gasps quietly as if he’s just told the most precious secret, “But I’m not supposed to tell you who I heard that from.”

Jason’s lips quirk upwards, “Well, your source was right.” 

The man hums triumphantly and skips closer to Jason. The man reminds the broader man of a puppy – floppy hair that falls into his eyes when he shifts his head, a playful smile, body language that just insist on wanting to play, and eyes - 

Jason feels his chest constrict as those eyes stare up at him. 

Blue, so very, very blue. Familiar – much too familiar to be a coincidence. Sudden memories of pink cheeks and cut knees as two boys played in tunnels of the Palace, running from the older boy’s handmaid. Terrified blue eyes as clammy hands grasped at Jason’s own. Blue eyes that have haunted Jason’s dreams and nightmares for the last decade. 

The blue eyes studying him now, the same shade. 

Green eyes go impossibly wide. _ No _ . There was no possible way. 

“Hey,” The man pokes his finger into Jason’s firm chest, “Are you Jason Todd or what?” 

Jason blinks a few times in succession, bringing his brain back to the present. The man is staring at him quizzically, a hint of concern laced in those eyes. 

_ It’s just a coincidence, _ Jason firms with himself. 

“Yes,” He confirms, “I’m Jason Todd.” 

The man, Dick – Jason’s brains supplies - claps his hands together and bounces on the balls of his feet, “Great! So, I’m looking to get some travel  papers and was told you’re the one to go to. So here I am.” 

Jason crosses his arms, still trying to rub the tingling in his skin away. “Where are you looking to go?” 

“Paris, I think I have a family there who is waiting for me.” 

Jason frowns. An overshare on Dick’s part, even so the odds that both parties are looking to go to the same location. The eyes, the age....

_ A  _ _ coincidence _ _ , _ his brain yells at him. 

Roy’s arm is suddenly draped over Jason’s shoulder, he leans over the taller man and grins at the man in front of them. 

“What a small world,” he starts, and Jason can hear the gears grinding in his childhood friend’s brain. There is a slim chance that Roy hadn’t seen how Jason reacted to the man, and like the scheming dog he is, took the information in stride and conjured up a holy plot. “We’re heading to Paris as well!” 

Those blue eyes sparkle, and his teeth shine in their smile, “How wonderful! What is the cost?” 

Jason can  _ feel _ the leering grin that cracks Roy’s face, “Well, it just so happens that we have an extra ticket.” 

Jason glares at Roy and begins to interject but the red head skirts out of the way and circles the blue-eyed man, his gazing raking up and down his body. Jason fights the sudden possessive ball in his chest. This isn’t the same boy as before. It couldn’t be. But....

“Though,” Royd continues, his expression feigning sadness, a true puppy, “the third ticket is supposed to be for the young Duke, Richard Grayson.” 

Dick’s head cocks to the side in confusion, “I thought he had died alongside his family?” 

Without even  processing that his mouth was moving, Jason says, “Yet, here you are.” 

Blue eyes turn to him, all wide and pretty and Jason continues without thinking, “You have the Grayson eyes, the same physical build,”

Roy interrupts, “Not to mention, you are the right age, and the exact features of the late Tsarina Maria.” 

Dick throws his hand into the air and shakes his head, “Are you both trying to tell me that I’m - me, Dick the Orphan,” Jason feels a twinge of sadness for the man “am royalty? That I’m the  long-lost Duke?” 

Roy nods enthusiastically as Jason simply shrugs, “Have you never thought it possible?” 

The red head steers the raven head towards the large painting of the Grayson family and points to the little boy in the painting. Jason follows their gazes and finds himself reeling at the resemblance between the flesh and the acrylic. 

Identical, there is nothing different except in age about the two. 

Dick huffs and shrugs his shoulders, “I’ve never seen myself as royalty, though I see how you would think I resemble this boy.”

The smaller man turns to Jason, “What is your angle? Why are you looking for this boy?” 

Jason replies with, “We want to reunite him with his Grandfather, the Grand Duke Alfred Grayson. He lives in Paris.” Not a lie, though not the  entire truth either. 

Roy cuts in, “We think that the old man deserves to have his family back with him, you see.” 

Jason shoots a quick glare to Roy as if to say,  _ Stop layering the bullshit on. _

Blue eyes study them both, then turns back towards the painting. He takes a tentative step closer and reaches out his hand. His fingers brush against the paint, feeling to raised edges of dried paint. He stares at the boy, the way his hand is clutching the hand of a woman in a beautiful golden gown. On the boy’s left is two other boys, at least a few years older, two young women stand beside them, and behind them all is a tall man adorned in beautiful white garments and gold chains. 

The entire frame screams of royalty and grace. 

Jason watches as Dick’s face slackens, his fingers tracing the gold gown of the Tsarina, blue eyes flicking to each face in the painting. Jason hopes to see recognition on the smaller man’s  face but sees nothing but confusion and wonder. 

After a long moment, Dick turns to the pair. “So, if I am who you think I am, then you’re saying I have  family who is looking for me in Paris?” 

Roy nods, “Yes, and he’s been searching since you – or the Duke – disappeared.” 

Jason sees the dilemma on Dick’s face and pushes, “Even if you aren’t,”  _ He must be, he is _ , his mind betrays him, “then no harm, no foul. You can start a new life in Paris.” 

Dick  hums, stroking his chin in a way that makes Jason want to laugh and tear up at the same time. Even his mannerisms reenact those of the lost Duke. 

After a few beats, Dick nods to himself and looks at Jason straight in the eyes. 

“Alright. I’ll be the Duke you’re looking for.” 

Jason is already regretting getting himself into this mess. 


	3. Past Connections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies!   
> Sorry it'b been a bit, I suddenly got hit with an eye infection and couldn't see, and straight up just couldn't think of how to proceed with the story to make it you know, angsty angst.   
> Anyways!Finally, with the help of tea and several joints later, I sat down and wrote a couple of chapters! Hopefully gunna release one every few days, at least once a week! (but seriously no promises because I'm a piece of shiiiiit)
> 
> Anyways, this chapter is done and here you go. 
> 
> (Also, I'm sorry if it seems it's moving too fast, I'm just trying to keep this as low-key as possible and not end up with a story i can't finish so. yeup.)

** Chapter Three **

_ Sunlight warms Jason’s flushed cheeks, the strands of his hair splayed out in the cool summer grass, a welcome contrast to humid air. His gem-like eyes watch as the boy beside him braids the stems of flowers together, tying in blades of grass and small twigs. The boy’s smile is contagious, causing a relaxed smirk to appear on Jason’s lips, but it’s the little giggles the boy is letting out between glances at Jason that makes something constrict tightly in Jason’s chest.  _

_ He ignores it.  _

_ He watches as those blue eyes scrunch from his smile, as he  _ _ swivels _ _ to face Jason fully, holding out the finished crown out to him. Raven hair - in much need for a trim – falls into those eyes, and Jason’s grin falters as his heart speeds up. He reaches out slowly and just as his fingers brush over the crown, the grass  _ _ disappears _ _ and -  _

_ Jason is grasping desperately towards the boy, always too far to  _ _ fully _ _ grab his hand, fingers brushing  _ _ the _ _ other’s skin without complete contact. Big blue eyes, blurry from tears and full of panic, look up into emerald ones; he’s crying for Jason even as his legs nearly topple over themselves in exhaustion.  _

_ Jason is halfway off the back of the train, fighting against older men trying to pull him back onto the safe platform of the  _ _ ever-quickening _ _ train. Jason, never one to believe in the universe, prays to whatever  _ _ deity _ _ may be out there, that by some miracle, he could get this boy to safety, prays that he can save this boy.  _

_ The train horn  _ _ blares, _ _ and Jason can do nothing but watch as the scene unfolds in front of him as if in slow-motion. He feels the exact moment his fingers slip into the spaces of the blue-eyed boy’s own, a surge of hope rising in his chest. In the same moment he feels glee, he watches as a sheer look of desperation crosses on the boy’s face, and Jason’s heart stops.  _

_ He feels the hand on the collar of his shirt and before he can squirm away, he hears the boy cry out his name as his fingers rip from Jason’s. Panic engulfs Jason’s body as the boy falls from his line of sight. H _ _ e nearly propels himself, along with the men holding him back, off the back of the train.  _

_ “Richard!” _

_ He tries to fight the men holding him back, kicking and scratching, anything to get the hand and arms away from him. He needs to get off this train, he needs to find -  _

“Jason.”

_ He cries out, still fighting. All he can see are those blue eyes, so panicked, so scared. _ _ He should have saved him.  _

“Jason, hey. Jason.” 

_ It was his fault. His fault for the death of - _

“Jason, wake up!” 

A sharp slap to his cheek has Jason rearing up, emerald eyes wide and unfocused as they land on the man settled close on the bed. Still half in his dream, he barely hears the soft sob he lets out as he pulls the man close to his chest. The body is radiating with heat, and Jason tucks his face into the crook of his neck. 

“You’re alive.” 

************

Dick has never been a deep sleeper, always being woken by a strange nightmare where the sense of  deja -vu would haunt him the entire day afterwards. He’s used to being woken by his own fidgeting and  restlessness , so when a scream wakes him, he’s honestly surprised that it’s not his own. 

Blinking to rid the rest of his grogginess, he swings his leg from the  mattress . 

It has been nearly a fortnight since their meeting, and Dick can say that he quite enjoys the company of the other two men. While Roy and himself had taken a liking to  each other from the start, it took Jason and Dick to turn their constant bickering from hostile to a strange form of endearment. 

Dick now finds the younger – though quite larger, and Dick found that quite unfair – charming, kind even. Rough and shielded, as one would with a past like Jason’s. It was a topic that the green-eyed man was skillfully able to avoid whenever Dick attempted to start a conversation. It was a particularly sore spot for the taller man when Dick pushed him for more information about the royal family and what transpired on that day. 

Jason would always mutter a quip about it being none of Dick’s business and stomp away for a cigarette, grumbling about privacy and lack-there-of. 

It left Dick  suspicious, though after one incident – after the three had gotten drunk on the deck, sharing stories of their past, and Dick asked his Jason personally knew the young Duke. Jason’s glare was intense, shocking Dick at the emotion clouding the green eyes. He growled out a low warning  _ Stop trying to dig your nose into my shit _ and stalked from the room. Dick simply looked at Roy, who shrugged and told him that Jason was never one to share more than was  necessary and wasn’t that the saddest thing Dick has heard. 

The whole ordeal left a knot of emotion in Dick’s chest and he never pushed after that. 

Slowly making his way from his shared room with Roy, who was sleeping soundly with drool to match, Dick barely catches himself as he stumbles into Jason’s doorframe. He knocks gently, calling out to the younger man, getting only silence in return. Dick frowns. He could have sworn he heard something. 

“No. ..no. ..  _ don’t _ !” 

Dick knocks again, harder this time, and repeats, “Jason?” 

When the only response is more anxious mumbling, Dick reaches for the handle of the door, finding it unlocked. Without a second thought, the blue-eyed man steps into the dark room, the single candle alight in the corner the only source of light. 

Dick closes the door quietly as possible then turns towards Jason’s form on the bed. Dick’s heart lurches as he watches strong limbs flail around, fingers clasping at nothing, sheets tangled up in stong thighs. Clearly, the man is having a nightmare, and Dick has nothing but sympathy for the man. He knows firsthand how awful they can be, how  debilitating . He knows how a simple dream can turn everything you’ve known inside out and back again. 

He knows it’s always better to be brought out from them gently as well. 

Dick steps quietly towards the man and perches himself on the side of the bed, one hand reaching out to try and soothe the painful crease in the younger man’s brow. 

“Please, let me .... I have .... help him,  _ please _ ,”

Dick’s chest tightens at the sheer amount of desperation in the man’s voice. He smooths the estranged lock of white hair from the man’s sweaty forehead, unsure of how to rouse the man without panicking him further. 

Suddenly, Jason’s  flailing turns violent and he lashes out, hitting Dick square in the chest so hard Dick gasps out a shaky breath. 

_ Okay _ . Dick reasons to himself,  _ guess _ _ gentle won’t cut it for this one _ . 

Moving to  straddle the man’s hips in an attempt the minimize the bruising on  both him and Jason, Dick feels his stomach in his throat as Jason cries out, voice shredding over his vocal  cords . 

“ _ Richard! _ ” 

Dick bites back a whine as one of Jason’s knees catch his sides, calling his name firmly. He tries to hold the larger man down, though Dick has always been more flexible than strong, and a strong upwards buck of Jason’s boy sends Dick toppling over. 

“No! No, _ no, no _ !” Jason’s sobbing now, legs kicking out as he tries, to buck off something imaginary. 

Dick aches for the man, wishing he could somehow rip the nightmare from his mind. It’s strange, seeing the man who before – so stoic, barred up, and sarcastic – becoming a scared child underneath him. Dick isn’t sure how to handle this, so he grabs Jason’s shoulders and shakes them roughly. 

“Jason!” He yells at the man, “Wake up!”

Jason lets a wail escape him, “ _ I’m sorry! I’m sorry! _ I’m -”

Without even thinking, Dick slaps the man across the face. Hard. 

Wild emeralds stare at him, foggy and  disorientated. Dick stares back, eyes slitting quickly between the shining orbs, hand  instinctively coming up to cup Jason’s cheeks. He wipes the corners of his eyes with his thumbs and smiles softly at the man. 

Expecting the man to snap back into his secure persona, Dick prepares for the shove, the snark comment. He does not expect the man to look at him with such  _ relief _ , whispering,  _ you’re alive _ , before crushing Dick to his chest. 

Dick is frozen in shock. 

Alive?  Of course, he’s alive. Why wouldn’t he be?

He feels Jason’s arms shaking as he holds the raven-haired man to his body, face buried in the crook of Dick’s neck, his breath tickling the small hairs on the back of his neck. Dick wraps his arms around Jason, rubbing a gently hand through his hair. 

Not knowing how or why he does it, Dick brings Jason’s face back to look at him. His eyes are still swimming, still not quite back to the land of the living. Dick just smiles at him again and reassures the younger man. 

“I’m alive,” He whispers, hoping the confirmation will calm the other, even though he’s sure that the person in Jason’s nightmares had nothing to do with him. He must just  bear a  striking resemblance. Though there is some small part of his mind that is whispering to him that no, it has everything to do with him. That somehow, maybe, their pasts might be more connected than he thought. 

He holds the shaking man tighter and brings them both to lie curled together on the bed. 

“I’m alive.” 


End file.
